


Coming Home

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [6]
Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7647">Homecoming</a> from Pep's point of view. As always, sex with a soupcon of affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

"Hi!"

"Bojan! Hello!" Pep says, voice happy enough that the others turn to look at him. He nods at them and steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "How's the coast?"

Bojan giggles, just a little slip of a sound that has Pep smiling. "It was fine," he replies. "Just, you know. Crowded." He pauses. Pep lets him be. Even just listening to him breathe on the line is more than enough. More than enough. "I'm home," Bojan says all in a rush. "After everything, I just..."

"Oh!" Pep's surprised. Bojan is normally happy to be around his family and his friends. Plus, he loves the beach. "Huh. Did you drag everyone back with you?"

"No, of course not!" Pep has to smile at the indignation and he rubs his hand over his face to hide it. From who doesn't really matter; it's become instinctive to hide any emotion involving Bojan when they're off the pitch.

"They're still there for a few days," Bojan tells him. "I just wanted to be alone, you know?"

And Pep does, remembers what it was like to be a teenager living with parents who were desperate to protect him, to keep him from the exciting excesses of older teammates. And coaches. "But Kiki," he says, smiling at the thought. "You'll be bored to death by six."

There's a thump from Bojan's end and the whump of something hitting a bed. "Hey!" Bojan laughs, the sound sending a forbidden happy thrill through Pep. "I have a new game, I'll be busy until at LEAST nine."

Pep can't help but laugh, stifling it into his hand. "Well, I suppose I should leave you to your game then," he teases. He admits, he's flattered by the speed of Bojan's "No!"

"I mean," Bojan continues, voice dropping just a little, slowing down. "That's OK. I mean, I...I like hearing from you, Pep."

Pep smiles, bright and wide and unguarded, ducking his head (just in case). He's becoming more familiar with the feeling of that smile on his face, even though a small part of him is disturbed that it took Bojan bursting his way into his life from him to remember how it feels. "I like talking to you too," he tells him, letting his voice drop as well. "So, what are you doing to entertain yourself right now?"

"Well," Bojan says, a shiver of excitement threading through his voice. "I'm on my bed right now. I'm sure I can think of something to do...."

Pep bites his lip at the thought of Bojan, his Bojan, spread out on a bed, perhaps in just jeans, sinfully unbuttoned but still clinging to slender hips.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" His voice is too deep, too intense, and he swallows to regain some control.

"Remember that first time, against the wall?" Pep can't help smiling; like he will ever forget that. "When everyone's asleep I suck on my fingers and slide them inside myself. But they're not as big as you. They don't feel as good as you."

Pep clenches his fist and grinds it into his leg. "Was it good?" he asks and only after realizes the questions's too eager for a man of his years, of his experience.

"Fucking myself with my fingers?" Bojan's voice is innocent and Pep smothers a groan, imagining those eyes, those lips.

"Kiki," he grits out. "You know what I mean."

Bojan purrs for him, Pep can practically see him stretching out, preening. "Yeah, I do," a small sigh. "Are you hard ? Do you want to fuck me again?"

Pep thumps his fist against the wall but the burst of pain does nothing to dull the thrill at hearing those dirty words. "Bojan," he groans, almost pleads. "Fuck, you know I do. You know I do." He's almost panting now, embarrassingly hard over a phone call. But god help him he doesn't care. He doesn't.

Bojan sighs and Pep leans his forehead against the wall and fights not to grab his cock. "You were so good." There's a rustling; never before has Pep simultaneously cursed and blessed his imagination. "It was better than I ever imagined," Bojan says, the words raw and stripped, like a secret he didn't know he had.

Pep can't help but laugh, pleased and proud and-"Wait. When you say ever imagined, do you mean with me?"

There's a deep mortified silence. "Um, yes?"

It's almost laughable and Pep can't help his fond "Liar." But, still. Fuck. "Was I your first Kiki?" There's a little part of him that just _burns_ at the thought

"....yes?" Pep closes his eyes at the hesitant word.

"Ever?" he manages to get out around the suddenly pounding of his blood that swamps him with desire.

"No!" Bojan says, indignation _almost_ silencing the part of Pep that howls that he wasn't first, wasn't the very first to ever touch that delicate skin. "I'm not a baby."

Pep has to smile at that familiar refrain."So you keep telling me," he says, rueful. He closes his eyes, not in arousal this time, but something else. Something much less pleasant. "Your first time was against a wall."

There's another silence, and then a small, quiet "I'm sorry, Pep." Bojan's voice is so small on the edge of fear that Pep reassures without even needing to think.

"Don't be sorry sweetheart." He searches for the right words but doesn't find them. "Just, fuck. You were so..." he breaks off. "I can't believe that was your first time." He really can't. Bojan had been clinging to him, every single sweaty perfect inch begging, pleading for Pep's cock. "Mother of God," he curses with a reverent voice, "Kiki, you were _begging_ for it."

There's another indignant sound. "Pep," Bojan starts in that snippy tone that Pep finds inexplicably adorable, "I'd been playing with toys for months. I'd fucked myself with my fingers, toys, a butt plug, everything. Don't you remember what I was doing when you found me?" Pep catches his breath. Oh yes, yes he does. Bojan must hear his small gulp because his next words are defiant and completely assured. "Trust me, I know what I wanted."

Pep inhales shakily, again covering his mouth. "Pep?" Tito sticks his head out of the door, looking at him. "We need you in here." Pep knows he must look ridiculous, hand over his mouth and eyes wide. He gives a stiff jerk of his head

"Bojan, I need to go," he says, frustrated arousal clipping his words.

"What?" Bojan asks, assurance gone. "But, wait don't-" but he cuts himself off. "OK," he sighs, somehow conveying regret and wistfulness and obedience with only those two syllables.

Pep bangs his head on the wall, but he's only a man, after all. "Will you be home?" he asks, only just keeping his tone from pleading. "I don't know how long this will take, but I'll try to be quick." He prays to God that Bojan doesn't realize that one word from him would bring him running.

A breathy sigh and a rustle of sheets. "I'm sitting on my bed, fingering myself for you. Wanna be nice and loose so you can just come in and fuck me."

_God_. Pep bites his tongue, hard, but somehow managed to say, "Yes, that's good motivation." He untucks his shirt and arranges it to cover his half-hard cock then glances at the doorway, aware that Tito will be out again in a second to look for him. "I'll be there. And Bojan?"

"Yes?"

"Don't come without me." He feels Bojan's frustration; the only reason he doesn't give a similar groan is because Tito has again stuck his head into the hallway, looking considerably more impatient. He shuts the phone on Bojan's plaintive "Hurry."

The next hour is awful. He spends the entire meeting thinking of Bojan touching himself, of fucking Bojan with that dildo. He knows he's blushing; Tito knows something is up. But the other man is loyal so he doesn't say anything about the fact that Pep's herding them out of the office nearly an hour ahead of schedule.

He doesn't remember the drive to Bojan's house. Only comes to himself when he's standing outside of Bojan's house, hand raised to knock on the door. He hears a startled thumping and the door is ripped open. And then Bojan's in front of him, wide eyed and surprised and so so so beautiful.

All the longing Pep's been feeling over the past month, all the yearning and the wanting, all comes back in a jolt that's almost painful in its intensity. "Pep!" Bojan says, smile lighting up his face. It's _hard_ to not just grab him and kiss those perfect pink lips.

"Are you going to invite me in?" he asks, trying to sound cool and unaffected. Such a lie and he prays that the other can't see the lust and need twining with his heartbeat beating in time, Bojan, Bojan.

Bojan steps back and stammers something, but Pep's not listening. The second the door is shut and they're safe from prying eyes Bojan is against the wall, Pep almost growling as he attacks his mouth. Bojan tastes better than he remembers, lusher, sweeter.

Bojan makes desperate sounds against his mouth, body strong and hard and oh so delicious against his own. Bojan is the one to pry him off, lips red and bruised as they both pant for eye. He looks right at him, eyes bright with lust and need and just...wanting. "Fuck, I missed...this."

Pep hears the pause and he knows what it means. It's that sentiment, not the words, that make him say, "Me too." He kisses him again, careful and tender, savoring the flavor of Bojan's bruised lips

Bojan's greedy and keeps pushing for more. But Pep has a plan, and rushed vicious kissing is not on the agenda. He restrains Bojan, pulling back when the man nips at his mouth, further and further until he can only feel the heat of Bojan's lips. "Where's your bedroom?" he asks, rubbing his nose against the other man's cheek. He smells...like Bojan, like grass and oranges and soap. He knows this, knows where those smells came from. Bojan's favorite fruit is oranges, his fingers perpetually sticky with the sweet sharp juice. He still uses the soap his mother buys, not the scented stuff young men his age usually use. And he knows the first thing Bojan did when he got home was to go outside and practice. He knows these things about this man, these intimate details; it scares him. He pushes it away by rocking his hips against Bojan, burying that feeling under the familiar swamp of lust.

"Where's your bedroom?" he asks. Bojan's face opens up even as he slumps against the wall, green eyes overwhelmed.

"Back there," he said, pointing behind him before tilting his head back, plea obvious in every line of his being

Instead of acceding to his silent demand, Pep slides his hands under his thighs and lifts. "Legs around my waist, sweetheart," he tells him. Bojan obeys without hesitation and squeaks when Pep pushes them away from the wall. "I've been thinking about this ever since you left," he admits as he carries them to the bedroom.

Bojan tightens around him at the words and cling, arms tight around his neck. Frees one hand and rubs it against Pep's cheek. "Scratchy," he tells him with a glimmering smile. Pep presses a kiss to the edge of it, wanting to taste. But there's time for that later.

Once in the bedroom, Pep immediately drops Bojan onto his back on the bed and steps back to discretely regain his breath. Once he can breathe without panting he unbuttons his shirt, unable to tear his eyes away from the man on the bed before him. Bojan props himself up on his elbows and watches him. Pep pauses with his shirt half way down his shoulders. Wants to ask if he likes what he sees, but one look at Bojan's shivering stomach and flushed cheeks and it's unnecessary. "Lie back, Kiki." He climbs on the bed and straddles Bojan, the feel of that delicatbody between his legs almost unbearable.

"Please," Bojan breathes. "Please, please."

He ignores his pleas, swallows them with a kiss, arching down in a tight curl that he can see Bojan appreciate, can feel it in the sudden surge against his mouth. Pep smiles into the kiss and pulls himself to his knees, kissing Bojan through his disappointed moans. Once Bojan's pliant and dazed with kisses he dips his head back, trailing nipping kisses along Bojan's neck, ending with a sucking kiss behind his ear. Pulls back only at Bojan's whimpered "Pep."

"Your first time should be special," he tells him, same mix of regret and dark possessiveness that he felt earlier surging forward. "Not half dressed in an office."

"Pep." Bojan tugs him off and looks at him, mouth a stubborn line. "It was the perfect first time." He searches his eyes for a moment and apparently sees something, because he pulls Pep back for a comforting kiss. "It was the hottest night of my entire life."

"Not the best?" Pep jokes (hopes he's joking).

Bojan glares at him then relaxes into a sweet smile. "No, that would be the Champion's League," he smiles so wide he dimples.

Pep huffs out a chuckle, that scary tender moment broken. "I should have guessed," he teases back. Strokes a gentle hand through Bojan's hair. "I still want to do this," he tells him. "Sometimes it's better to take your time."

Bojan's smile slips back into an exasperated glare. "And sometimes it's nice to actually come," he snips, again pointedly rubbing his cock against Pep. "After waiting for more than an _hour_."

Pep has to chuckle at that. "So impatient." He pushes Bojan's shirt up around his neck then luxuriously runs his hands up t hat smooth chest. "It's my job to help you learn control," he murmurs just before wrapping his lips around one pink nipple. He's sure he's done this, licked and bitten at this soft flesh. But he can't remember this feeling, this decadent teasing and playing, the skin puckering beneath his lips. He knows the growing tenderness by Bojan's trembling, the way he arches up and pulls away at the same. Small whines warn him and he pulls his body upwards just in time for Bojan to miss grinding against his body. But he takes pity and transfers his attention to the other nipple. He's careful to just barely graze this one, only allowing his teeth to brush against he skin, slowly teasing and coaxing the flesh into hardness. While he lavishes the one with tenderness, he's savaging the other, sensitive flesh giving easily beneath cruel fingers. Bojan twists beneath him, arching into his mouth, then into his fingers, torn between pleasure and pain. Pep hides a smile. He'd guessed this about Bojan, seen hints in the submissive curl of his body, in the bitten lips and pained moans. But tonight is not for that kind of love and so, with a short stab of regret, he moves on.

Bojan whines, high and sharp and Pep pauses. The other man is panting, his face and neck flushed while his nipples glisten with spit and abuse. A wicked idea crosses his mind. He wants to take his time, but after all, Bojan is young and he had shuddered so prettily beneath his mouth.... He shifts up. Bends his head and bites, not holding back, bites till he can feel blood rushing beneath his lips, his teeth. Then bites down even harder and shoves his hand on Bojan's denim covered cock, digging in. Bojan spasms, hands going to Pep's head, holding him in place. "Pep," he sobs out. "Oh fuck, fuck. " He grinds Pep's mouth against his nipple and arches up, cock jerking beneath Pep's hand. After several long moments and one last whimper he relaxes, pliant and lovely beneath him. Pep lifts his lips one a bruised nipple and looks up to see Bojan watching him, eyes a little worried.

Pep makes quick work of Bojan's clothes, the boy lax and malleable underneath his hands, the sharp scent of come coating his tongue even though he hasn't tasted it yet. "Flip over," he tells him, urging Bojan onto his front. Bojan does so with a happy sleepy murmur, so trusting it hurts. God, laid out like this, Pep doens't know why he hasn't done this before. Pale pale with just the hint of brown from the aborted holiday. A touch of red along the shoulders is unexpectedly endearing and Pep presses a gentle kiss against the pink skin. Bojan shifts beneath him to pillow his head on his arms and Pep kisses down his back, mouthing the ridges of his backbone. The taste isn't so strong here, just a vague smatter of salt.

Bojan tenses below him with every kiss. Giving into a sudden urge of evil, Pep scrapes his stubble against the soft skin of his lower back. Bojan squeaks at the sudden roughness but then arches up into it with a near purr. He trails lower and lower, Bojan curving tighter and tighter, hips curling greedily. Pep's mouth waters at the though of where he's heading, what he's about to do. But age teaches patience, the pleasure of anticipation, so he slows down, each touch of his lips lingering and sensuous.

By the time he reaches his tailbone, Bojan's trembling with need and the painful curve of his back; Pep can't _stand_ it anymore. The firm curves of Bojan's ass in his hands and he's pulling them apart. Masochist that he is, he takes his time as he licks his way down to that sweet little hole. When he finally brushes Bojan's hole, they both moan. All he can think is 'mother of god sweet tight dark _mine_.' He meant to take his time, to tease Bojan more but he can't. Thrusts his tongue in, making Bojan mewl and clench down, the movement forcing his tongue deeper, more. Bojan's whimpering now, arching onto his tongue then grinding down on the bed, little pained hiccups every time he bears down on the bed.

Pep has to pull away before he explodes, using the opportunity to pull Bojan's ass open as wide as possible and in response Bojan whimpers "Pep, please."

Desperate Pep gets up, scrabbles for the bedside drawer. Fishes out a tube of lube (thank GOD for horny teenagers) and settles back between his legs "Kiki, Kiki," he grunts, "fuck, you're so beautiful." He spills lube on his fingers, grace lost in the face of such overwhelming need. "Bojan, god. What do you do to me? Why can't I ..." he trails off as he pushes his fingers into Bojan, watching them disappear as Bojan moans and he shivers around his fingers.

"More," Bojan says, utterly broken, and Pep hurriedly withdraws his fingers and places his cock against that little hole. He pushes in just an inch and waits. Bojan whines and begs, "I'm ready, I'm ready, _please_."

Pep groans; it takes all his control to keep from ripping into him and taking what he needs. The slow slide is so good it's painful, Bojan's keening cries the perfect counterpoint.

Suddenly, "Am I good?"Bojan's voice is small, vulnerable. Pep halts, body beyond his control. Bojan buries his face into the pillow, the slight shift changing the angle enough for Pep to hiss with pleasure. But...

"Bojan," he says, curling his body so he can rest his head against Bojan's back. "Fucking you is like..." He can't find the words, nothing's enough to express what he feels, not when he doesn't _know_ how he feels. "I think about you all the time," he admits, words tumbling out onto Bojan's neck, into his hair. "I think about the sounds you make when I push into you," he grits his teeth as Bojan trembles around him. "The look in your eyes when you suck my cock, the way you taste on my tongue, the shiver right before you come." He rolls his hips, just once. Bojan hisses and curls up into him, grinding up. Pep hitches his hips and grinds into that one spot, bojan trembling and wordless beneath him. "Bojan, I think about you every day." He shuts his eyes tight at the admission, suddenly terrified. He plunges his cock into Bojan, desperate for the familiar _safe_ thrill of tight heat clenching around him.

And he tries, he tries so hard to make it last, but Bojan's moaning and gasping, body by turns pliant and desperate. And Pep keeps thrusting into that delicious heat, that beautiful ass clenching around him. He's aware Bojan is trying to grab his cock, trying to grind down for stimulation, and he growls at the thought. He yanks his hips up, pulling him up so he can't rub against the mattress and fucks him so hard he can't grab his cock. "You'll come for me," he hisses, digging his fingers into delicate hips. "_Me_." With that he pulls Bojan into an even tighter curl, gritting his teeth in a savage possessive grin as Bojan whines at the painful angle. "Mine," he groans.

Bojan's sobbing for breath, but still manages to cry out, "Yes, yes, I'm yours. Only yours. Please Pep, please please."

"Bojan," he grunts. "Oh _fuck_." One more thrust and he comes, shoving his dick as far as he can, feeling his come coat Bojan's insides. He has just enough presence of mind to jab directly against Bojan's prostate.

"God," Bojan wails, body jerking painfully in that familiar rhythm.

Pep growls; he'd wanted to suck him off, to take his come in his mouth. He yanks out, ignoring Bojan's pained whimper as he yanks him onto his back and grabs the other's still spasming cock. Bojan gasps, mouth red and wet, whines, "No, no." He grabs Pep's hand, smaller hand holding him in place. "Too much, too much." Even as he sobs the words he holds Pep's hand tight, not letting it move. It's an effort, but Pep stays still until Bojan's hand relaxes and falls spent onto the bed. As soon as Bojan's eyes slide half way shut he crawls off the bed and grabs a washcloth from the bathroom, dampening it just enough. Carefully, he wipes the smears of his come from Bojan's hole. So tempted to lick it away, but Bojan's so oversensitive that it wouldn't be arousing, just painful. But that's something to explore for another day.

For now, he tosses the cloth onto the floor and crawls on teh bed to settle next to Bojan. The other man sighs, content. He snuggles into him; Pep's overwhelmed by the rightness of this man in his arms. He pulls him closer and wraps a hand around his slender waist. "You OK?" he asks, sleep already blurring his words.

"Hmm. Yeah. Perfect," Bojan sounds satiated and smug and happy.

Pep smiles and allows himself to fall asleep, Bojan tucked firmly at his side.


End file.
